Eyes of Ithildin
by Artemisdesari
Summary: Fili wakes one morning to see a familiar golden glow about his wife. He doesn't curse out loud, but it is a near thing. In a little under fourteen months Durin is going to be reborn. Soul Stones Part 14


The years pass. Erebor heals and flourishes. Kili and Tir finally marry, four years after Maja's birth although how they managed to wait _that_ long is a mystery, and waste little time in having a child. They name their son Vili, for Kili's father, and he is swiftly followed by Fili and Arja's second child, a daughter they name Ilja. Fili basks in the love of his family, and the almost unheard of good fortune that both of his children are girls.

Periodically the council will make noise about the lack of a male heir on Fili's part, which isn't important in the slightest as Maja can still inherit the throne. Even if she couldn't, however, there is Kili's son and Fili's unspoken certainty that when he _does_ produce a male heir the council will hardly know what to do with the fact that not only has he been blessed with two daughters, his son will be _Durin reborn_. He has learnt, however, that the council are rarely happy unless they have something to complain about and as the repairs progress, and the income from taxes and trade slowly begins to exceed their expenditure, they fall back on old gripes and complaints. For the most part Fili is able to ignore them, the ones with the loudest voices are at a similar age to that his grandfather would have reached, had he lived, and they are gradually being replaced by their younger descendants who are more open minded to the changes that have happened with the reclamation of the mountain.

Relations with the elves continue to improve, thanks to the efforts of Fili, Kili and Bilbo. Not to mention the children. Elves, it would seem, adore children. Their birth rate is lower than that of the dwarves, an elf child not having been born for more centuries than Fili cares to think about. For a race that would live forever, barring violent death or fading from despair, children are not the same necessity as they are in other races and so far rarer. Fili's daughters, and Kili's son, do a great deal to ease tension during necessary diplomatic trips. Both hate travelling without their wives and children and with orc numbers at the lowest they have been for decades the roads are safe enough with a large escort. Even without the children Fili and Kili would be given one of _those_ anyway. Thranduil, especially, dotes on the girls, apparently missing the presence of his son more than he will admit, and during visits it becomes a common sight to see the usually cold elf smiling brightly at a tiny bundle or grinning indulgently as small boots thunder across the room. Fili would be lying if he tried to insist that he doesn't occasionally take advantage of the situation, but then he suspects his daughters might be the first dwarves in generations to grow up with a genuine affection for an elf. They may be first to have that sentiment returned as well and Fili finds he can't resent that too much.

Maja has not long turned sixteen, and Tir has just had her second child (a daughter named Lir), when Fili wakes one morning to see a familiar golden glow about his wife. It's brighter than usual and the gems have an indistinct quality to them. For a moment Fili panics. Neither of the young couples have lost a child, although he knows that it is fairly common, and he fears the hazy nature of the gems means that they will lose this one. He doesn't tell Arja straight away, not wanting her to experience that same fear, and it is only as the days go by and he manages to look more closely that he realises that the gems are indistinct because they are encased in a fine lattice of mithril. He doesn't curse out loud, but it is a near thing. In a little under fourteen months Durin is going to be reborn.

Fili is _not_ ready for it.

Kili laughs so hard he falls off his chair. Fili has told him a great deal about Durin over the years and so his brother has some idea of just how Fili had come to view the first of the Seven Fathers. Having never grown up knowing his father and having little in common with Thorin aside from being in line for the throne, Fili has always struggled for a proper father figure. Thorin had tried, and before he had ended up in Mahal's Halls Fili couldn't have asked for better, but he has never been the most nurturing of dwarves. That is far from his fault. Thorin has never experienced the longing for a child and had too little of his _own_ childhood to look back upon for an example. Durin, however, has raised countless children. He lived to be over two thousand years old during his first life (which he had declared to be very tedious towards the end) and so must have seen the birth and deaths of many children and grandchildren. He had taken Fili under his wing and taught him in a way that Fili likes to imagine a father might. It will be hard to reconcile himself to the thought that _he_ will have to take on _that_ role for the greatest of the Seven Fathers.

"Can you image him talking to **Amad**?" Kili asks gleefully and Fili groans.

"I can see **Amad** washing his mouth out with soap," he replies and Kili hoots with laughter.

Arja takes it with less humour. Although she has settled more into her role as princess and mother to the future King Under the Mountain, she still has times when she doubts her suitability for the task. Finding out that she is to be the mother of Durin Reborn is one of those times. There is nothing to be done about it, of course, and by the time Fili works up the courage to tell her what he has known for months she is clearly showing anyway.

"Don't tell anyone else," she orders him. "It's going to be bad enough once he's born, I don't need them knowing that it's already on the cards."

By 'them' she means Thorin, who has watched Fili closely over the years since he confessed everything to his mother and uncles (because Bilbo _is_ his uncle even though nothing has ever been formalised between the pair purely because they can't agree on _how_ a ceremony should be conducted). Thorin _claims_ to absolutely believe Fili's tale of why they survived the battle relatively unscathed, aside from Kili's scar and Thorin's limp, but Fili knows that is not entirely true. For all that Thorin will ask for his insights when he is struggling with a decision or wonders if he has formed the right impression of a new acquaintance, there is a lingering doubt in his uncle that bothers the younger dwarf. He _wants_ to tell Thorin that Arja carries Durin just to prove a point, but he knows that Thorin will just double the guard on them both and they have found their freedoms growing more restricted as the years go by anyway. It is, they are assured, only natural given how prominent they are among their people and how clearly they have been touched by Mahal (there will always be those who wish to share that blessing in any way that they can), but it annoys them all the same.

Fili does as she asks, much as he doesn't want to and much as he wishes he could double the guard on her himself, and the months roll on as they always have. Durin's Day comes and heralds the beginning of a period of celebration in the mountain that has not lessened over the nearly two decades that have passed. Which, of course, is when Arja goes into labour. Either Mahal or Durin has a sense of the dramatic, and it's probably both of them in truth, but it still makes Fili roll his eyes even as he waits anxiously with Arja as her pains come and go. He has been present for this twice, it doesn't get any easier. He imagines it's worse for her.

It is as Arja is giving her final push that Fili notices the atmosphere in the room has changed. It has a heaviness that he recognises and he looks up to see his Maker watching silently from across the room. The words of the midwife barely register as he returns Mahal's nod with one of his own and he wonders if Mahal has been present every time that Durin has been reborn. Arja collapses back and turns her head in the same direction, her exhausted expression shifting to one of vague annoyance.

"Get over here," she orders irritably, "and hold your son."

The midwife looks over in alarm, but Fili is too busy trying _not_ to laugh at the expression on his Maker's face. He wonders how rare it is for one of them to surprise Him. The midwife glances at Fili, who nods to her, and she hands the newborn over to their Maker with hands that tremble a little. This will be the most important birth that she has ever attended, he knows, and much as he would like to hold his child he will not begrudge Mahal the same thing. Besides, Fili will have years of caring for the newborn Durin, before he remembers his previous lives, and so years of a son that he can enjoy watching grow before all the inevitable complications begin. There is something strange about Mahal holding a living child, an image that he burns into his memory, as the midwife deals with the afterbirth and the clean up that follows. As awe inspiring that it is to have Mahal in the room there will always be things that have to come first.

"Can you send our family in?" He asks her.

He knows that Thorin, his mother, Kili and Tir will have been waiting anxiously since word reached them that the time had come. Sure enough they all file in together and promptly halt when they see that Fili and Arja are not alone as they expected. This, Fili decides, is something _he_ can have fun with. Something that Tir promptly ruins.

"_Mahal,_" she breathes, though Fili suspects that they all know who they are seeing anyway. Their Maker looks at them, his face splitting into a wide smile, and then carefully hands the baby to Fili.

"You should do the honours," He says. "You _are_ his father."

"One of them, anyway," Fili agrees, because he has had months to get used to the idea that his son is one of the Seven Fathers reincarnated and so will never be entirely _his_ child. "Uncle," he turns to Thorin, "I would like to present my son and heir, Durin VII." Thorin pauses in the act of reaching to take the newborn baby and Fili grins widely.

"Did you really think I would be here for any other?" Mahal asks in amusement as Thorin gingerly accepts Durin from Fili's arms. Then He frowns. "Why have you and Bilbo not married yet?" He asks.

"We, uh, we haven't been able to come to an agreement on how it should be done," Bilbo replies, which is easier than saying that the _council_ are having a hard time accepting it and agreeing to how it should be done. Mahal frowns.

"How can it be so difficult?" He asks. "Dwarves exchange beads, hobbits exchange rings. They are easy enough items to obtain and the vows are similar enough. You have complicated things far too much if it is causing this degree of difficulty."

"Couldn't _Y__ou_ do it?" Fili asks, taking Durin back from his uncle and handing the baby to Arja.

"An excellent idea," Mahal smiles, "since I'm here anyway it would be the perfect opportunity." Thorin doesn't even _try_ to protest appropriately overwhelmed, Fili thinks, although Bilbo makes a half argument against wasting Mahal's time. Their Maker smiles at him indulgently and waves the objections away. "It won't be anything over complicated," He says, "but it will be obvious to _all_ that I have done it so if you have any doubts _now_ would be the time to say."

Bilbo splutters indignantly, but Thorin grabs his hand and bows his head. It is, Fili thinks, long past time that this was done and it would seem that Mahal agrees because he keeps the whole thing very short, pausing only long enough to pull a pair of rings from his pocket that looks suspiciously like they have been made of mithril. _That_ will make it obvious enough, even if the way that the beads Thorin pulls from his pocket glow does not. This is a union which, like Fili's, has been blessed by their Maker. Mahal doesn't leave Kili and Tir out of proceedings either, apparently having developed a soft spot for them during Kili's time in His Halls, bestowing a brief blessing upon therm as well.

"You've all done well," He tells them. "Far better than I could have ever hoped after a little bit of interference from _that_ one," he turns his ancient gaze upon Durin who is nestled quietly in his new mother's arms. "If you carry on the way you are Erebor and all the other dwarf kingdoms have a brilliant future ahead of them."

"We aren't going to see You again, are we?" Fili asks.

"No, lad," comes the reply, "not until you return to my Halls. Now, go and enjoy your son, _before_ he becomes his usual _difficult_ self." Mahal orders. "And, Fili," He continues as the air seems to halt and still around them, the words obviously for his ears alone, "have Tharkûn look at the ring Bilbo keeps in his pocket. Tell him he cannot continue to overlook it, the one who seeks it will gather power too quickly."

"Is Bilbo in danger?" Fili asks, but the moment is over and Mahal is gone.

"Well," his mother says into the heavy silence, "I suppose we had better go and announce all of this to the rest of the mountain. Father to Durin reborn, **Kidhuzurâl**," she says, touching her forehead to his. "I'm so proud of you, for all of it."

"We need to buy Uncle a drink as well," Kili says, gesturing to a still stunned Thorin, "I think he might need it _before_ we go announcing Fili's good fortune." The last is said with a wink and a smirk because Kili _knows_ that Fili is going to be in for a difficult time once Durin starts to remember his past lives.

"We'll leave you three alone," Tir smiles, herding the rest ahead of her.

Fili watches them go and turns to his exhausted wife and newborn son. Arja smiles up at him, all the worry about her future as the mother of _Durin_ has melted from her now that the time has come. He presses his forehead to hers in silence, a little bit overwhelmed now that Durin is here and all of the promises made when he changed the outcome of the Battle of the Five Armies have been fulfilled. The future king of the Lonely Mountain yawns widely, grumbles and opens his eyes.

Fili meets the curious gaze with one of his own.

He has never _seen_ Ithilidin, the method if creating it was lost centuries ago (though he suspects that Durin probably managed to get the information from Narvi, who had more contact with the elves capable of making it), but he is well aware of the legends about it's properties. He knows the colour that it is supposed to shine under moonlight, just as he knows that his eyes are often referred to as the being the blue of the Durin line. This, he thinks, could not be further from the truth. Durin's eyes are not _just _blue. They shine in the way that Fili has always been told that Ithildin does.

The clear and glowing gaze of a true King Under the Mountain.

* * *

_**A.N: **__Butchered Khuzdul:_

_Kidhuzurâl: Golden One_

_Ithildin is super refined mithril that apparantly only certain of the Noldor could make. Narvi might have managed to get the secret of it out of Celebrimbor while they were working on the western gate of Kahzad-dum, but who knows. _

_And that is the end of this little verse. I've left it a bit open ended with the ring and all, so I could probably come back to it at some stage if the inspiration strikes, but for now this is it. It's grown thirteen fics bigger than I planned to start with and it's been huuuuuge fun, and a lot of work. Comments, after all of this, will always be greatly appreciated. Especially after being told off firmly by my physio today for doing too much with all the house work, kids and renovating. I'm stopping my shoulder from healing and that is very bad. More writing time it is, then. I already have new one to work a bit more on (Blame Skyrere, she encourages me constantly) and one to finish. And a half plotted third one that I've been playing with off and on. My brain is crazy busy right now._


End file.
